Posthumously
by ffanon
Summary: Red John is caught and killed, but at the price of Teresa Lisbon's life; here are her final thoughts, and maybe just a little more; ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

She thinks it's the pain that's kept her alive for so long.

That it's; all the hormones and adrenalin pumping through her system that keep her heart beating, but she doesn't think it's going to last much longer due to the way the pain is fading and she begins to feel content.

But she pushes back against that content, against the feeling of sleep pressing down on her eye lids, she instead focuses on the sharp feeling in her side; it feels like someone's dragging thorns out through the gaping hole just below her ribs.

She focuses on the way her own blood feels when she shifts just a tiny bit, focuses on the warm sticky feeling that gently coats her clothing and skin. She focuses on the ripples in the puddle of her blood when she moves.

But her mind begins to roll around again to the feeling of content, and the sleep hanging just above her head.

She inhales and wonder how long it's been since the door shut and Red John walked out, leaving her a bloody mess in his wake.

She thinks' it's been a long time, due to how the pain is finally fading.

She exhales and wonders if she should write a message with the ink, her blood, pooled around her.

Her left hand twitches and she distantly scans her memories, she thinks of the murder victims she's found with frantic messages written in blood besides them; she thinks of Lorelei Martin's sister, and how before she died she carved the name 'Roy' into the flooring.

She thinks of how she'd felt at the sight, how the victim's family reacted when she delivered the messages, seven times out of ten they seemed relieved, like their grieving was a little easier to handle because they got the final words of the one they'd lost.

She lifts her left hand and it shakes but she dips the edge of her index finger in the blood and shifts, just a little extending her hand to the edge of the puddle and begins to write the top of the letter 'I'.

She makes it to; IM SO; when her hand begins to shake and she feels like she's going to slip under any minute.

That's when she hears the shouts, and recognizes the faint sound of gun fire, and she hopes for a moment that she'll be able to tell someone her message instead of have to write it out; but just in case she begins to write a 'R' next to the 'O', she starts the next one and about seven feet away the door (she thinks it was seven feet, judging from what she saw when she first woke up) smashes open.

She hears the strangled shout that follows; she knows who ever has just entered the room has just seen the red smiley face painting on the wall above her head, with her blood.

It's a man. She deduces as the shout continues, morphs into shouts of horror and _No, no, please, not again_.

It's Jane; she realizes, and she tries to lift her head to get a better look at him; his silhouette comes into view; black against the golden light coming from the hall, the edges of his silhouette are lit gold and she can see the tournament etched into his features.

He looks like an angel she thinks; one who fell, and hit every tree branch on the way down.

But an angel none the less, a broken, frayed torn apart man; but a brilliant and amazing angel in the end.

"Lisbon?" He breathes and she hears the floor creak as he rushes forward, they creak only once so she assumes he's fallen but then he's on the floor beside her. "Lisbon?" He asks again and his voice cracks this time around.

Ripples break out in her puddle and she blinks, swallowing. "You'll get your knees dirty." She whispers and listens to the breathy chuckle that follows, he shouts something, she thinks he's shout for Cho (she hears him say his name), and for someone to call 911, he sounds frantic.

She's never heard him sound frantic before, scared, she's heard him scared plenty of times before (with him driving the car and her with a bomb strapped to her chest), but this tone of voice is completely new to her.

His hands touch her shoulders and pain shocks snaps through her like someone had been holding a elastic band taunt and just let it go; she whimpers, "Please don't."

He stills, she feels his hands hover though, and one of them plasters against her side. "Please, Jane." She says again, begging.

"I've gotta stop the bleeding," He says in response and there's a shuffling noise; the sound of ripping Velcro, followed by the sound of shuffling and suddenly she's got the top piece of his suit pressed against her breast and the bottom section of her neck.

"You won't in time -" She whispers, and she thinks her words over, they don't really make sense but she doesn't have the energy to correct herself.

"Stop talking." He snaps and in a more gentle tone continues, "Don't waste your energy." She doesn't want to do that, so she doesn't speak again.

Silence fills the empty space between them and she inhales.

"Did you mean it?" She asks.

"Mean what?" He asks instead of telling her to not speak; she thinks he's realizing himself she'll die before help can get here.

"You said you love me, but then you said you forgot about it."

She hears him suck in a breath, clear his throat and then speak again.

"Of course I meant it."

"Then why did you say you forgot?" She asks.

He clears his throat again; and his voice cracks when he speaks.

"It didn't seem like the right time to tell you."

"Oh." She says, pausing. "I love you too." She says.

He makes a choking noise and whimpers; the noise breaks mid way through leaving his mouth, "Please don't leave me." He whispers in the death of the noise.

She tilts her head back, she feels the blood against the back of her head, feels her hair float in it and stick together in lumps because of it. "I'm sorry." She retorts.

"Just.." He trails off, "J – just hang on, please." He begs, making another noise; stifling what sounds like crying; she's never seen him cry before, but she can't truly make out his features now; just the blur half lit vision of his face.

"It's not your fault." She pauses, "Did you get him?" She asks; she hates the pain that etches across his features, how visible it is when his eyebrows curve upwards and the way his eyes flutter before he answers.

His hands, one holding the suit to her and the other holding the gaping hole with thorns below her ribs tighten against her skin. "We did." He admits she can hear him smile; the moist sound of his lips cracking, she can see the faint shine of teeth.

"So it's over?" She asks.

"It is." He answers gently, and he shifts closer; dragging his knees through the blood despite her earlier protest.

Lifting her gently from the floor and setting her upper half across his knees. The hand holding the section of suit against her breasts abandons the suit for a moment to position her head on his lap and returns to holding the fabric down; "It's over, but it doesn't have to _end_." He whispers.

She inhales.

"Yes it does, Jane."

She exhales.

She hears him suck in a breath and whimper again; he sounds like a child, she thinks.

"How'd you do it?" She asks as that thought floats away.

"Rigsby shot him as he was leaving the room, I –" He clears his throat, "I finished the job and came in here, I – I um, stabbed him in the neck, and then I kicked the door open."

Oh, so it hasn't been that long; and what also surprises her is that he didn't even check to see if Red John was dead; his next instinct was to kick the door down, not check to see if the man that killed his family and tormented him for the past decade was dead.

She inhales again, "Jane." She says.

"Just – _Just_ hold on, Lisbon." He growls, she hears his breath hitch and she feels her lips twitch upwards in a smile; they feel cold as she smiles, a soft feeling like cold water begins to run across her face.

"I love you." She repeats and she feels him begin to shake; he's crying she realizes, the water, had been his tears.

"Jane?"

"I – I love you, too." He says, gasping for breath now.

Her mind is foggy.

"Good luck, Patrick." She adds, her mouth feels numb now.

He shakes harder; his gasps turning to silent sobs, "Don't, cry." She whispers, but he does anyway, she feels his shoulders hitch as he does just that. "I'm sor-"She chokes on the words.

She exhales for the final time; and the world fades black slowly; his face un-blurs and she sees him with a new clarity, see's the tears in reflection of those sharp blue eyes, see's how his lips are curled downwards, see's the stains of tears on his face; see's the gold light from the hall that bathes his face.

It melts into the darkness and she cleans to the sound of him crying now, she can feel the floor board creek once more and she hears Cho's muffled voice, which are soon overcome by Jane's crying, she hears his breath hitch and then she's gone for good, letting herself fall into sleep; welcomes the feeling of content.

AN: I may turn this into a story, I may not, I've got some other endings where she doesn't die, if anyone is interested enough to read those, mention it in a review and I'll re-write the ending.


	2. Chapter 2

She's stood besides Jane plenty of times, but this time something's different and she just can't put her finger on it; well, besides the fact that its dark.

It's so dark in fact she can't see anything, so, if she can't see anything, then how does she know she's next to Jane?

That's when everything shatters and blooms into color, the first thing she see's is the wooden floors bathed in a golden light coming from a half-dead light bulb in the hall. The second thing she see's is the always recognizable sight of blood, the third, is Patrick Jane holding a body and sobbing, silently, but hysterically.

The fourth thing she see's is her own face, which is pale, cheek bones dusted with smeared blood; eyes wide and glazed over, staring up at the ceiling, a soft smile on her face.

Her breath hitches at the sight and panic floods her chest, she staggers backwards, beginning to hyperventilate; when suddenly she's standing the same spot she was before, breathing calmly.

"Teresa," A voice says from behind her, closer to where Patrick Jane crouches.

She turns slowly, her hand going to her hip on instinct; she feels panic once again as her fingers brush over where her gun should be.

A beautiful woman stands a few feet back; just behind Patrick. Wearing a blue blouse with incredibly detailed sun flowers splattered in places, and dark blue jeans. From where Teresa stands she can see the woman has freckles dusted along the bridge of her nose, her hair is a dirty blond and her eyes are a dark brown.

At the woman's side stands a child (who is currently staring at Patrick); with the same brown eyes but her hair is a light blond, locks made up of thick curls, she holds her mother's hand and as she looks away from Jane she casts a small smile at Teresa.

"Teresa," The woman repeats softly.

"W-who are you?" Stutters the woman in question, the woman in the blue blouse blinks; her face a calm mask when she speaks again.

"I'm Angela Jane; I believe you know my husband." She answers softly, her gaze moving to Patrick and with her free hand she gestures to small child at her side, "This is Charlotte."

As she speaks the vision of the child morphs and changes to a teenager; still the same blond hair but instead of the curls in her hair being tight they've loosened; her eyes are the same sharp blue as her fathers, and this time she's dressed in a purple plaid button up, with a pair of jean shorts.

She rolls her eyes and drops her mother's hand, "Honestly mom, you don't need to introduce me." She looks away from her mother to Teresa, "It's an honor to meet you." She says, moving to extend her hand, only to step back a moment later, her hand dropping back to her side.

"But – you, you two are dead." Teresa says softly.

Angela nods, "And so are you."

"I figured that out," Teresa comments, glancing towards Patrick Jane at her right; who's clutching her body and sobbing, for a moment the noise fills her ears and her breath hitches, she feels tears of her own prickle at the corner of her eyes and despair fills her chest at sound.

It stops abruptly and she's left with the visual, "Oh god –"She begins to say, a hand fluttering up to her mouth, she presses the backside of her hand against her lips and sucks in a breath.

From the corner of her vision she see's Angela tilt her head ever so slightly.

Guilt blossoms in her chest; pushing back the horror, guilt at the thought that she's left him alone for good, that she can't be beside him and help him through the death of the man who ripped apart his life, and the second one he'd begun to build; the second life they could have built together.

"You couldn't have done anything, Reese." Charlotte says softly.

"We all have to leave sometime." Angela continues.

Her hand rips away from the back of her mouth and smacks against her side fiercely and her gaze snaps from Jane to his family, "So – so now what? I just leave him too?" She snaps; she expects looks of hurt to fade into their expressions, and she's surprised when it doesn't; when the looks on their faces remain calm and even, if not a little sad.

Charlotte tilts her head back slightly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You can stay." She offers, her mother glares at her as she speaks but she ignores it. "You can stay with him, for a bit, watch over him." She clears her throat and glances downwards at her father after she speaks.

Teresa pauses, letting the words sink into the back of her mind, and she inhales and glances at Angela, "Did you stay?" She asks.

His wife shakes her head, "I had other things to watch over," She glances at Charlotte as she speaks who lets out an irritated puff and shakes her own head, her gaze staying on her father. She turns back to Teresa, "But I would have if I could." She adds.

Teresa frowns, and looks at his daughter, "When you say stay, what does that mean?" She asks.

"Just like what it sounds, you stay with him, watch over him, watch him live is life."

She thinks about it, she wonders if she could do that; be with him, be around all her friends, and the people she loves and never be able to say a word, never be able to influence a single thing.

"Would he be able to see me?" She asks.

"That's up to you." Answers Angela.

She considers it, she turns this new thought inside and out; she could stay with him, watch him live his entire life, or talk to him whilst doing it; that thought, is rather disturbing because she knew it would drive him mad, it would torture him, being able to talk to her and only doing so when they were alone.

"And if I don't stay?" She asks.

"There's a woman waiting just around the corner for you." Angela answers; she gestures to the door way as she speaks, and Teresa can make out another silhouette just beyond the half-dead light bulb.

It's her mother.

"Will I be able to see him again?" She asks, Angela crosses her arms. "If you leave now, you will never see him again, even after death. If you leave now, he will die, and he will come with us."

"And if I stay with him, what happens when he dies?"

"Oh, he'll go with you, and the rest is up to you, who you see after, where you go, it would all be up to you Teresa."

She shifts in her spot, considers her choices, but even as she does that she knows what she's already decided. "I'll stay with him." She says.

Angela graces her with a smile and nods, and begins to turn away, walking from the room.

Charlotte remains though. "Teresa," She says.

"Yes?"

"If you change your mind, about talking to my dad, will, you just…" She trails off and swallows. "Just tell him that I love him?"

She knows that she won't change her mind about being able to talk to him, but she nods none the less.

"Thank you, and, good luck."

"Wait Charlotte," She says and the girl stops, turning around and looking back.

"Tell my mother I'll be right back." Teresa says.

"I will." Charlotte promises and then she's gone; following in her mother's foot steps.

The next thing she knows she's sitting across from Patrick Jane and he's sitting on the edge of an ambulance with tear stains on his face and having his arm stitched up. His crest fallen expression doesn't falter as she settles in front of him.

She stares at him; and she can see him in a new clarity. She can see the broken man before her; she can see the victor, the victim, and the good man he could be.

She can also hear the way his breath hitches with every intake, like he's holding back a sob, but the noise is gone by the time he exhales, only to start again with another breath.

She turns away from him, not bothering to look back at the pathetic excuse for a house behind her; she saw enough of that when she was alive to last a life time. Instead, she looks at Cho; who's staring at one of the body bags with a somber expression about ten feet away, his gaze flickers to the bag besides it and she sees the barely conceleaded rage on his face that follows.

It's easy to see which bag belong to whom then.

She slides down from where she's sitting (a fence post, she realizes) and walks across the yard, over to Cho and stands beside him.

"Don't blame yourself." She says, crossing her arms as she speaks.

He doesn't hear her.

She wonders if she could live like this for the next eighty years or so, her gaze flicks to where Patrick sits and she knows she can; and she'll do it happily for him.

She shifts her gaze to the cars spreading down the dirt road, one skids to a stop and she can hear that the engines still purring as the doors pop open and the rest of her team files out, she watches as Rigsby and Van Pelt stagger towards them, Rigsby finding his feet first jogs over.

"What happened?" He asks, breathless.

"Red John's dead." Cho answers and it hurts her to hear the rage bubbling below the surface as he speaks.

It hurts even more to see the joy on Rigsby's face, because any second now he's going to be grief stricken. "That's – that's great, where's the boss?" He asks. "Where's Jane?" He asks.

Cho doesn't say anything; instead, he bends down and unzips the body bag on the left.

She's a coward, and she looks away as Rigsby realizes that it's her in the second body bag; but she still hears the gnarled noise he makes, and the 'Oh God'.

"Jane is over there." She watches as Cho points to the man in question sitting on the edge of the ambulance; he's crumpled in on himself. "Make sure someone's got eyes on him at all time." He says, it's a command not truly addresses to anyone but instead a general command.

"She's smiling." His voice sounds hollow when he speaks, it cracks as he does, and he inhales sharply, the base of his hand flutters up and presses against his eyes.

"She died smiling." Cho comments, crossing his arms again, she can see the pain clearly on his face, and she feels it reflected in her chest, and it brings own tears to her eyes at how intense it is. "Something she said to Jane." Rigsby inhales sharply.

By then Grace is making her way over, and Rigsby spins around, dashing over to her. "Hey, what is it -"She begins to ask as she sees the pain written across his face, and then her gaze drops, making its way over to the body bags, and landing on her body bag a strangled noise is ripped from her throat in response.

Rigsby doesn't break stride and just pulls her into a hug, and doesn't let go.

Cho turns away from her body, leaving it unzipped and makes his way over to Jane.

She stares at her body.

She thinks of the joy she felt when she died, the content, the peace.

She lifts her hand and pushes the locks of hair from her forehead, and as she does she can hear the echo of laughter in her mind.

"_Hey – Hey that's my sandwich!" _She hears her own voice shriek, followed by a image of Jane's face with fake horror on it as he turns and runs from the building, her sandwich in his mouth and hands, she hears her own footsteps echo off the floor as she chases after him.

"_Oh god..I loved this song." "You love this song?" "Yeah.." "So obviously you wanna dance."_ She's suddenly pressed against him, holding one of his hands and the other resting on the back of his shoulder, her head leaning into the crook of his neck and they're swaying softly to the music playing in the background.

Suddenly she can feel the sun pressing down on her and the sand underneath her legs as she turns and falls into the bank besides Jane, who pants from where he lays, she rests her arms across the tops of her knees and he blinks, squinting at her as he extends one arm; a hand sliding down one of her own arms and he eventually takes her hand silently.

"_Hey – is he gonna be okay?" _And all she see's is the white curtain being yanked shut, shielding him off from view; and she feels the panic she did that day as if it was happening for the first time.

"_Jane?"_ Her voice echo's and she can feel the crunch of leaves underfoot, _"Jane you out here?"_ She sighs, _"Jane come on!"_ She increases her pace as she walks, turning a shrub and stomping now as she walks. She turns into the clearing and she sees the lake spread out before her, hears and feels herself whisper, "No" before she plows into the icy cold water and grabs him.

"_Good luck, Teresa. Love you." _

Her fingers drift across the bruise on her forehead and she can hear muffled voices, muffled scenes playing in the back of her mind.

It's her own memory palace, she realizes; that's what she's viewing.

"_I wanna know what your face feels like when you're smiling." _

And it's filled to the brim of memories that all focus around him.

She swallows, a hand drifting down to her own cheek. She rubs her thumb across the cold skin; watching the blood smear as she does.

And suddenly she's cold, she can feel the water trickling down her lips as she smiles for the last time, she can feel the way her eyes drifted shut.

Only this time she opens them.

She opens them and shoves up against the dark trash-bag like material surrounding her and she squirms, gasping and heaving for breath and she falls over, smashing into the ground with the movement.

She can hear the sound of rushing footsteps and suddenly she's on her back and she can hear the rest of the bag being unzipped in a rush, there's hands grasping at her and the bag vanishes from underneath her and she's sitting on the ground.

She's alive.

"Someone get a gurney!" She hears someone holler, and she notices distantly that it's Rigsby.

She's moved and she feels something strapped onto her mouth; it's dark again and she can't see anything, but she knows that Jane's standing beside her even if she can't see him.

She hears people speaking, she can't make any off it out though, and she feels someone take her hand.

"_Charge_!" She hears someone say; and her world shatters into color and she gasps again, struggling to breath.

But she's alive.

AN: I'm sorry if this is grumbled and confusing for anyone, a recap is that Teresa dies, meet's Jane's family, they offer her to go with her mother, or stay with Jane and watch over him. She chooses the latter and begins doing that when she comes in contact with her own body, suddenly comes back to life and it ends there.

I've got a lot of versions of this in my head and it's hard to pick one; one where she does die, and stays dead and watches over Jane for the rest of his life, and then there's this one where she comes back and I don't know where to go with it, because I normally just write one-shots.

Anyway it means A LOT to me for all of you who reviewed and if anyone wants this story to continue I'll continue writing it.


	3. Chapter 3

She expects to feel pain when she opens her eyes, but she doesn't.

Instead of pain she receives a light blue doorway.

And then she feels the pain, it's dull at first; digging into the center of her spine, and then it sharpens; inching and clawing its way downwards and curling around the top of her prostate. It feels like needles are digging into the top of the bone and it only continues to become more intense as seconds pass; the edges of her eyes prickle with tears and the room blurs; and the sharp scent of medical supplies isn't helping.

She gasps; and her body shakes as she trys to breath, to her left she hears a beeping noise increase and it becomes more frantic as she struggles to breathe.

Someone on the right jumps; she hears the sound of a chair smacking against the floor in the rush of movement and she blinks fiercely to clear her vision; she see's someone rip open the door and yell for a nurse.

The person who's wreaking havoc in the hospital room turns away from the door and enters the room again, and she realizes its Jane; he stares at her, his gaze moving over her before he turns around and leaves the room again.

She makes a noise when he walks out of view, well, she tries to make a noise but she can't bring herself too because it's too much work so the machines do it for her; the beeps get louder and increase in pace again when they were just beginning to calm.

"Tom! Annie!" He hollers and then he comes back into the room and rushes over t her, "Hey, hey it's alright –"He's touching the side of her head, smoothing down her hair as he speaks in a rushed tone. "I'm not leaving, it's alright." He continues.

She inhales and attempts to move her left hand, but before she can get it out from underneath the covers Jane takes hold of the oxygen mask on her face and lifts it gently, and sets it down beneath her chin.

She exhales and smiles at him, "Thanks." She whispers with an almost blissful expression on her face.

He nods and returns the smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling up slightly as he does; but the smile seems fake she realizes; and as she looks over his face, picking out the details as she goes, she can see the haunted look in his eyes come to light.

"How long has it been?" She asks.

The smile drops and he clears his throat, bending over to pick up the chair from the floor; he lowers himself into it and scoots it closer to the bed once he sits. "About three months," he clears his throat again and runs a hand through his hair (which is noticeably longer) "They, um, the doctor's put you in a coma so that way you could heal." She nods.

"How long have you been here?" She asks, coughing slightly at the end of her sentence, she inhales.

"About three months," He answers sheepishly, reaching out and taking her right hand, running his thumb across her knuckles; he's fidgeting, she realizes.

"You've got that homeless vibe about you again," She retorts.

He squirms in the hospital chair, turning her hand over in his. "I didn't wanna leave." He confesses softly.

She exhales and nods again, shifting and leaning back into the pillows (which are incredibly lumpy).

"So," She breathes and his gaze moves from her hand to her face; "Is that you, or me, who smells? And really, Jane you could have left to have taken a shower." She adds, wrinkling her nose. "Oh, it is definitely _you _that smells."

He cracks an honest smile and gives a short chuckle, and as the laughter dies her brother stumbles into the room, Annie weaving around him and diving for the hospital bed, stopping short of hugging her aunt.

"Reese!" Her brother yelps, saying it like a prayer; while his daughter steps back to let him through, a few tears trickling down her cheeks as she does.

Teresa shifts in the bed, keeping her eyes on her niece despite her brother blocking a clear line of sight; "Hey, Annabeth, there's no reason to cry."

Her niece smiles, whipping at her cheeks; "It's – I'm crying because I'm happy." She clears her throat after speaking and trys to regain some composer, her father turns to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"Hey, how about you go call your aunt's team? Tell them she's awake," He suggests softly and Annie nods, taking her phone out as she exits the room.

Her brother turns back to her; his shoulders sagging as he exhales roughly; his eyes going moist as he looks down at her. "I'm so happy you're alright." He sighs.

Jane pushes himself up from the chair, going to stand and muttering, "I'll give you two sometime alone." as he goes to leave the room.

But Tommy stops him; laying a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place he looks back to Teresa. "You will not_ believe_ how helpful this man has been, he stayed here when I had to go to work, he watched Annie when I wasn't here, and by the way, he is _amazing_ with kids, he's been here literally the entire time – hasn't left your side once, he – this one is a keeper, Reese." He looks at Jane once more, "So you buddy, get to stay."

Jane stares at the ground with a sheepish expression and the same haunted look in his eyes, he clears his throat and glances upwards, looking Tommy in the eyes; "Thank you." He says softly.

Teresa watches him closely, eyes scanning over the way he stands; she notices the way his fingers coast over where his wedding band normally resigns.

It's gone.

His wedding ring is gone, but he's still reaching out for it, judging by the way he wrings his hands together as he talks and slowly takes his seat again, as Tommy looks from Jane to Teresa; Annie pops back into the room, a gleeful smile on her face.

"Cho said everyone's on their way, I'll go wait in the lobby for them." She says and then she's gone again.

Tommy glances between them again, "I'll go with her." And as he leaves, not before smacking a hand on Jane's shoulder and as he goes he mumbles something about there being all sorts of weirdo's in hospital lobbies at this hour.

The comment makes her look around for a clock, she finds one and it reads 5:05 AM.

Oh.

That explains why Jane was sleeping.

He shifts in the chair, still looking sheepish; she inhales and takes his hand again, he glances up.

"Thank you." She says, and there's a hint of a smile on his face.

"You're welcome." He replies softly, squeezing her hand.

There's a creak at the doorway and they both look in that direction, a middle aged nurse walks into the room; a clip board tucked under her arm, she gives a smile in Lisbon's direction but her exhaustion is still visible. She makes her way across the room; Jane stands and walks to the other side of the bed to give the nurse some space to work.

"So, on a scale of 1 to 10 how is your pain?" She asks.

Lisbon hesitates before answering; the pain that woke her has vanished, but her head remains a bit fuzzy.

"A…two, I guess." She answers and from the corner of her eyes she see's Jane's shoulders sag as he relaxes, the nurse nods and moves in; gently taking Lisbon's arm in her own in her hands; one hand cupping her elbow and the other holding her wrist.

"I just need to check how it's healing, is that alright?" She asks.

"Of course." She answers and the nurse's hand drops from her wrist and takes hold of the edge of the dressing and begins to unwrap the bandage on her arm; she misses the way Jane goes rigid where he stands because she's focusing on the nurse, eyes flickering between the wound and the woman unwrapping it.

The cut is nearly a inch deep in it spreads from her wrist, across her forearm and vanishes into the valley of her elbow, it curves slightly as it goes; it's pink and puffy on the edges and white at the very top and bottom of the slice, where the skin's beginning to heal, and it's held together by dark blue thread in tight stitches.

The sight makes her sick. Not necessarily because of this one incision (she's seen far worse) but the fact that there must be more than twenty just like it all over her body; the thought scares her to death.

She thinks of the scars those cuts will leave and her mind dips and slides into what it felt like when he was doing it; when he was slicing her open and leaving her to die in his wake, she thinks off how it felt to have her skin sliced open slowly and how the blood was warm and sticky when it flowed out and above all how the scars will remain and never fade.

Jane places a bucket in her lap just in time for her to be violently sick, and she feels his finger tips brush across the top of her neck as he grabs locks of hair and holds it back while she vomits for the second time; she hears him speak to the nurse. "Could you not, do that, again? Or at least wait till she's not conscious for it?" He asks and she can hear the edge in his voice clearly.

The nurse's response is too hard to make out because all she can hear is her ragged gasps for air; she instead focuses on the small circular motions Jane's making on her neck with his thumb; she chooses to feed the shock of what he's doing instead of feed the disgust she feels as the nurse strips the wound of its wrapping completely and replaces it.

"I'll be back later," The nurse says and Jane slowly removes the bucket out from under Lisbon; making sure she doesn't need it again and hands it to the nurse; his calm demeanor having returned. "And dear," She pauses at the door, taking the bucket from Jane and setting it down at the edge of the doorway, she turns walking back into the room. "Visiting hours isn't till 6, so you still have some time to shower if you want."

She frowns, "Even with all the dressing?" she asks.

The nurse pauses; realizing what she's just said and sighs, "What I meant was you could wash your hair in the sink if you wish," She gives an easy smile. "Sorry, it's been a long shift."

"I know the feeling." Lisbon says with a nod and the nurse is gone, taking the foul smelling bucket with her.

Jane snorts from where he stands, his hand sliding down the back of her neck. "She's so tired because instead of sleeping she's having sex with her boss."

Lisbon stares at him as he walks around the bed and he plops down in the chair he'd originally been sitting in; he crosses his legs and leans back. "Oh." He pauses, realization washing over his face.

She smirks, "Yeah." She chuckles and he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face; with a sly smile on his face he pushes himself up from the chair once more.

"I'm going to get some tea; I'll be right down the hall." He mumbles, waving a hand in her direction as he exits the room.

She waits until she can no longer see him and then she wiggles her toes; she hisses at the lightning bolts that shoot up her calves and the way her muscles sting afterwards but she does it again, over and over till she can feel the fabric underneath her heels.

Once she can feel everything she swings her legs around to the other side off the bed, biting her lip as she goes through the movement; she presses her toes to the floor and it feels steady enough so she slides off the bed.

It's all good till she goes to stand and lands square on her knees in a rush as her legs fail to support her; which causes her to gasp and sputter and sink against the floor in pain, just missing the chair as she falls. She squeezes her hands into fists and shoves up against the floor, her palms slipping against the smooth flooring and the scent of it all is making her want to vomit again.

She considers yelling for Jane.

She turns her head and glances at the bed side table; she reaches for it but can't reach; her finger tips just skimming over the wood, she looks at the chair and rushes herself up, and she grabs the edge of the chair, she goes to stand, pushing against the bottom of the chair with her hands but she can't get up; so she slides back down and continues laying on the floor.

She re-considers.

She sucks in a breath and yells for him, no response, she trys again and this time she hears the soft sound of skidding footsteps and out of the corner of her eye she sees the same hideous brown shoes she was hoping for come into view, moments later she hears a hesitant voice ask, "Lisbon?"

"Down here." She growls, extending a arm and smacking her palm on the floor to prove a point, she hears his shoes skid against the floor once more and suddenly she's being lifted up; and when he goes to help her on the bed she plants her feet firmly on the floor and shakes her head; leaning into him.

"Any reason you're on the floor?" He asks with a smirk, his tone filled with humor.

She snorts, and gestures with a hand to the bath room door. "I was gonna wash my hair because frankly, I don't smell that great!" She snaps; her expression irritated.

His smirk turns to a smile, "And you thought it was me." He purrs; his smile growing as he speaks. "Well, you could have waited for me to get back and asked for help to get there."

She raises an eyebrow at him and he releases her, putting his hands up as a sign of surrender. "Hey, I would have been a complete gentleman." Within the few seconds of him doing this she wobbles where she stands, swaying forward she stumbles as she goes.

"Careful!" She squawks as she trys to right herself, and his hands fly to her elbows and he steadies her. She glares up at him once she's stable and his smile has turned sheepish, 'Sorry' he mumbles softly, without looking the part at all. She sighs and rolls her eyes; her hands pressing against the inside of his elbows, she glances towards the bathroom door and back at him. "Could you help me?" She asks and he nods, going to turn her around when she stops him.

"And no funny business." She growls and he gives a small nod and smiles at her.

"Of course not, Lisbon, have some faith in me." He says, and he turns them, one arm looping around her waist as he goes; and she doesn't have a choice but to lean into him as he bends and opens the bathroom door.

After the embarrassment dies and she's no longer leaning against Jane's side she's finally leaning against the sink, she turns back and looks at him, where he stands a few inches back and gives him a nod. "You can go." She says and he gives a small smile and leaves the room, shutting the door as he goes.

She turns to look at her reflection; she notices that she's got a faint scar on the left side of her jaw.

It's new.

That's what breaks her; what causes her to rip off her shirt and set it at her feet despite how for a moment she thinks she'll fall over with the swift, rushed movement, and despite the shock of pain that follows, she doesn't fall over, and when she doesn't she squeezes her eyes shut; not wanting to face the new reflection just yet.

She inhales.

She opens her eyes and instantly feels like vomiting so she shuts them again and exhales, gripping the sink for support. She breaths in again and slowly opens her eyes; which are damp this time around and looks at her reflection.

The first cut she see's stretches across the valley of her breasts, it's a dark red and it's stapled together instead of stitched, it's blurred slightly due to the clear thick medical tape plastered over it. The second one curves along the edge of her left shoulder, starting at her collar bone and thins out across her bicep eventually vanishing from sight; the third slice starts underneath her right breast and is incredibly visible till it reaches her belly button, and then it stops, as if it was never there.

The one on her bicep and stomach are stitched shut, there's another one that starts on the other side of her stomach and curls around her belly button; its stapled shut, and pink around the edges.

She turns around so her back is facing the mirror and looks over her left shoulder, on her left shoulder there's a large gash that stretches all the way along her back, curling as it passes her spine and ends at her right hip. On the right side of her shoulder there's a gash that stretches till her bottom rib, it slides along the skin that makes up her side; that one had been particularly painful; it'd been the third one he cut; her memory flickers and for a moment she feels the pressure of a blade against her ribs, she gasps; and her eyes prickle with tears once more, then it's gone.

All the ones on her back and sides are stabled shut.

She turns around again and runs a hand along her throat; all of Red John's victims were slashed across their throat, but she wasn't.

He wanted her to last she realizes with distant horror.

Her face remains untouched as well; except for the fresh scar on her chin (which she remembers she got from fighting against him).

He wanted her face to be recognizable; for Jane.

"Hey Lisbon –"The door opens and she spins around, crossing her arms over her chest as she goes.

"Jesus Jane!" She snaps, but her voice cracks at the haunted look on his face as his gaze begins to roam over her; not once stopping on her breast but instead flickering from wound to wound, when he looks her in the face again she fears for a moment that he's going to cry by the way his expression seems to crumble.

But then it's all replaced by a look of pure relief.

That's when he walks into the room; and she presses back against the sink, which feels like ice against her hips. "Hey – I'm, I'm not wearing a shirt!" She stutters but he ignored her completely; pulling her into a firm hug, which she only fights. "Jane!" She growls and he hugs her tighter; she squirms a little more and unfolds one of her arms and shoves it violently against his chest.

"Patrick Jane – I swear to god! If you don't –"She yelps out her demands but he ignores them and he doesn't let go.

"I thought I'd lost you." He whispers into the shell of her ear and she feels his entire frame shake when he inhales.

She stops fighting when he finishes speaking, but she doesn't hug him back, she instead pats him on the back with her free hand, digging her nails just a bit into his shoulder. "Alright, you didn't lose me. So could you please let me go, now?" She asks; and he stiffens and pulls back imidetly, looking sheepish he glances at the floor.

"Sorry Lisbon," He chirps, still staring at the floor; he bends and picks up her shirt, which she yanks from his grasp.

"Out. Now." She growls, he nods and turns around; shutting the door as he leaves. "And you know what, when I'm done, you are taking a shower!" She hollers at him as the door clicks shut.

She can still hear him laughing as she turns around and flicks the faucet on.

Its 5:42 AM by the time she's done and she's got rid of the last bits of soap, she lifts her head from the water and squeezes her hair and pulls her shirt back on; which is a way to big for her, hospital gown top.

She leaves the bathroom and Jane's sitting on the bed, legs crossed and book in hand, he looks up and smiles at her.

"Your daughter wants you to know that she loves you." She says as her hand drifts down the door frame and she walks out from the bathroom.

The smile drops and an echoing feeling fills her chest at the words, but it's gone by the time Jane speaks again, "I'm sorry?" He asks, frowning slightly.

She frowns, "I didn't say anything, Jane." She shoves him from her bed, patting his back with the backside of one of her hands when he doesn't move. "Now go shower, and shave _please_."

He nods and slides off the bed and swerves around the chair; setting the book on the bed stand as he goes, he turns back to look at her and opens his mouth, about to say something when he shuts it again and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

She's the one sitting on the bed when he comes out at around 6:15, hair washed and shaved, dressed in the same suit except he's holding the top piece and vest in his arms. She glances up and then back at the book she's reading; which is his, but she's got one hand holding his place in the book while she uses the other one to turn the pages as she reads.

She turns a page and looks back up at him, "That's my book." He comments and she nods.

He lays the blazer and vest across the top of the chair and picks up his tea from the bed side table (which she bets has gone cold) and turns to face her, swaying where he stands slightly, he clears his throat and sits down in the chair.

"So what you said," He clears his throat again and she closes the book, placing it in her lap and looks at him. "So what you said, before you died." He continues, "What did you mean by it?"

She frowns, her gaze moving to the doorway and then back at him.

"Well, what did I say?" She asks pausing and then continuing "I was kinda hyped up at the moment, it being the fact I was dying." She adds.

She misses the way his expression crumbles from coy and morphs into doleful because as soon as she finishes speaking the rest of team appears at the door.

She also misses the look Cho sends Jane that screams _coward_, because she's too busy hugging Van Pelt.

AN: I kinda wanted to write a bit more for the scene where he helps her to the bathroom but I couldn't think of anything more for that. I might do an 'extra' scene at the end of this story, where I write some drabbles and such and include that in there.

Anyway, it means A LOT to me for those of you who reviewed and I'm glad you're enjoying this so much, and I will continue to write it till I find a decent point to end it.


	4. Chapter 4

When she wakes up alone for the second time in a row; she does it with a scream dying on her lips and her hands shaking frantically as she claws at the blanket; feet sliding on sweat and sheets as she scrambles back till she's pressed against the pale blue wall.

It takes longer this time for reality to set in; for her to realize that she can in fact move, and it is not paralyzed by whatever drug a serial killer injected into her veins; that she's safe, in a hospital bed, and not laying down to a dust floor with her organs being cut open, unable to move or scream, or even cry.

She stays pressed against the wall till she can hear the sound of the clock ticking over her ragged gasps for breath.

Then she moves, listening to the sound of the clock ticking as she goes; using it as a land line, slowly uncoiling her legs, which feel like jelly, out from under her and slowly she slides back down into the pillows; away from the cold reassurance of the wall.

She lies in the pillows; limbs tossed over each other, curled against her chest. Blinking fiercely at the tears that threaten to spill over, she tries to breathe through the panic; she trys to get her hands to stop shaking.

But her hands don't stop shaking, and she feels like she's inhaling water every time she tries to breath.

She uncoils one leg all the way and hisses in pain; one of the staples has come out and is now digging into the upper flesh of her thigh.

She snorts, frustrated and in pain; she lifts the blankets, removing the newly freed staple from her leg; and here the nurses said she was well enough to sleep alone now, that nothing would happen if she did.

Well they were obviously wrong because she just woke up screaming, and managed to dislodged one of her staples.

She pulls down the sleeve on her left arm and curls the fabric into a small ball and presses it against the blood oozing up from the re-opened wound. She unfolds the fabric and curls it into another ball when the original section she'd used becomes too damp.

She debates on what to do next, still shaking from the nightmare she glances at the clock on the bedside table.

1:02 AM is what the green numbers read.

She can't go back to sleep, the night mare is lapping at her skin like the waves of an ocean, ready to grab her and yank her into the current and drown her.

Even the thought of going back to sleep scares her, makes her skin break out into goose bumps; she can hear the echoing voice of Red John in the back of her mind as she entertains the thought, and instantly decides against it.

She panics at the lingering sound of his voice and scrambles forward, snatching a book from the bedside table; she needs to busy herself for the time being, a distraction from the voice that plagues her thoughts and a book will do just that.

She lays back and pushes the pillows upright and leans against them; she ignores the bleeding spot on her leg and pulls the covers up and around her chest.

She holds the book she'd taken from the table in her lap and looks down at the cover.

_Modern Man in Search of a Soul_

_C.G JUNG_

She frowns and turns the book over in her hands, skimming the back description and she turns it over again to look at the cover; it's undobitly Jane's book.

"_So, that thing you said before you shot me. . . What did you mean?_" She hears her own voice ask and she pauses, letting the memory play out before her.

He's holding that book in his hands, not truly giving it his attention, instead focusing on her. He shrugs, his hands curling around the cover; his wedding ring a sharp contrast against the shaded blue cover.

He tilts his head back, slightly to the side, shifting in the brown leather chair. "_What did I say?_" He asks, narrowing his eyes as he speaks. He shrugs again, the spine of the book bending with the movement. "_I was kinda hyped up at the moment._" Her own response is muffled to her ears.

Oh, that's where she'd seen it before.

Her frown deepens as a sense of déjà vu washes over her, but she can't place the memory and it gives her a migraine trying to attempt its recall so she gives up after a few seconds.

She opens the book to a random page, skims a few lines and instantly decides it isn't her cup of tea so instead she sits upright and swings her legs around to the other side of the bed, she then pushes herself to stand, setting the book on the night stand and heads for the door.

She'll just find a vending machine and then go back to bed, and while she's at it she should probably find a nurse so she can have her leg stitched back up.

A small section of her mind is reminding her that this is irrational, wondering around the hospital, and insists that she should stay in bed and just press the call button but every other part of her mind is fuzzy with sleep and some reason it thinks that walking around the hall ways at night is perfectly rational.

Or at least that's what she decides as she exits her room, the door slowly shutting behind her as she goes.

The hall ways in the distance are well lit; that's what she sees upon leaving her room. She can hear the soft chatter of doctors, nurses and interns so she avoids the well lit hall ways and instead stays to the secluded ones. As she drifts through them, engulfed in the darkness of the halls, her mind dips and slides into the darker thoughts in her head, the ones that match the halls and are the ones pertaining to her nightmare.

She shakes the thoughts away as she walks and scrambles up the imaginary bay in her head to a safer place, away from the lingering nightmare and instead focuses on locating a vending machine; which she realizes with disappointment as she slides through a door way that reads STAIR WELL 5, are probably in the lobby.

She then considers going back to her room and getting her phone to call Jane, to have someone to talk too; and maybe part of her wants him to hypnotize her into a dreamless sleep.

But she doesn't do that, and she doesn't go to the lobby to find a vending machine, either. Instead she climbs the stair well leading upwards and wishes that she had some sort of bathrobe because it's only getting colder the higher she goes.

She reaches STAIR WELL 7 and decides to leave the stair well in choice of roaming around on the seventh floor, this is because her nightmare is climbing back into her head and the stair well doesn't hold many distractions; except for the occasional echo of a door being opened, and slow footsteps of tired interns that walk from floor to floor.

She considers calling Jane again, but decides against it as she opens the door in front of her and nearly runs down the hallway; which is filled with shadows, bent at odd angles due to the pathetic source of light from further on.

A part of her brain is screaming that she's being completely irrational and should go back to bed is louder now, it reasons that she's being crazy; roaming around a hospital with no idea what this floor holds and without any reason for doing it; but she ignores it and continues on, slowing her pace from a run to a almost lethargic step.

She turns the corner and this hall way breaks off into another one halfway and it extends downwards, and at the opening there's a set of chairs, which surprisingly, look very inviting; so she walks over and sits in one. Resting her elbow on its arm, she leans against her fist and pulls her good leg up against her chest and stretches out the bad one.

Her mind begins to drift a few minutes later as she listens to the sounds coming from further down the hall; it reminds her off the bullpen and that gives her a fake sense of security and safety; she favors the noise of chatter and work over the soft beeping sounds of the machines which broke the silence in her own room, but only on occasion.; torn apart by minutes that are long and drawn out.

Her eyelids feel heavy as she watches the lights reflections on the polished floor further down the hall, and the way the shadows dance in tune to the silent melody that the lights are singing.

A few minutes later she's asleep.

"_You can end the search now Cho, I found her._"She hears the words as they are spoken, but she can't bring herself to care about what they mean.

"_Lisbon._" The same voice says, more gentle this time; silence follows; she guesses this is where her response should be. "_Lisbon?_" He asks, his tone gentle, like the way a caring father talks to their child after a nightmare.

"_Lisbon._" He snarls and suddenly his face blooms into focus against the darkness that surrounds her; he looms just above her with a curved blade in the grip of his hand, which is covered in skin that is pale gray instead of a peachy pink.

He smiles and leans forward; his breath reeks of alcohol and cigarettes; which brings up even more unpleasant memories and distantly, in the far back of her mind, she hears her brothers crying, and her father's shouts of misdirected anger.

"_Teresa Lisbon._" He purrs, _"The great Saint Teresa,"_ he continues and a considering look makes its way onto his face. "_It fits you; it has a nice ring to it._"He leans forward; she hears a faint rustling noise and scrapping as he settles on the floor besides her.

She'd go stiff if she could, at the feel of the blade pressing against her stomach; terror floods her system but she can't act on it, she can't move, she can't shout, she can't do anything.

"_The Saint that protects the Sinner._" He continues speaking, humming softly as he does."_The Sinner in this story being Mr. Jane of course._" She can see the grin that slowly climbs up his face as he begins to speak again;"_Oh, how it will break him to find you when I'm through with you." _He smiles down at her and she's unable to do anything as he digs the blade into skin of her stomach; a little deeper this time."_A final act before the story ends._"

The pressure of the blade lifts up just slightly and skims up her stomach as he drags it along, he suddenly pulls back; sitting upright and curling his legs underneath him."_You see, Teresa. I've got no intention of walking out of here alive._"He tilts his head slightly to the side, the considering look resurfaces in the motion.

"_And if you don't mind me asking, how long has the Saint been in love with the Sinner? It's just, I'd like to let him know when I see him again, maybe give him some peace of mind that it wasn't unrequited, what he felt, oh my bad, it's you that felt things, he will still feel them because he'll be alive, but you'll be dead, so you felt them._" He snickers to himself,"_Tenses are such funny things, don't you think?_"He pauses and she swears she can hear him smirk.

"_Now, my dear. Let's get the fun started._"Pain rips across the top of her chest and blood splatters against the underside of her jaw; it's warm and sticky and disgusting, panic floods every inch of her and she wants to scream, but she can't.

"_This is going to be great fun, isn't it Agent Lisbon?_"He purrs, and she's trying to vomit against the scent and feel of it all but she can't.

She can't do anything.

"_Lisbon?_" He asks, and she hears the purring, the almost seductive tone fades in his voice fades; it's replaced with concern and the soft fatherly tone.

"Teresa?" He asks, and she jerks upright in the chair, slamming against the wall in a rush, she scrambles back, her hands slipping against the arms of the chair due to her sweaty palms; she ignores the pain that shoots up her left leg in the rush.

Her chest is heaving as the face of Patrick Jane blooms into focus; concern etched into his features, but he instantly vanishes from sight as her vision blurs again; and panic fills her chest at the lost of him.  
But her vision isn't blurred due to sleep but instead with the tears that have begun to fall; she blinks fiercely and lifts her hands to rub them away, his face comes into focus again and she thinks its shock that's written on his face; his sharp blue eyes a little too wide.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." He says softly and she feels his hands brush across her cheeks, helping her get rid of the tears. "It's over, he's not here. He's dead."As he speaks his thumb begins to rub small circles on her cheek.

"What happened?" She turns her head and spots Tommy, who's running down the hall to join them, Jane's hand leaves her cheek at this development and she clears her throat as he takes a step back; his hands drifting and falling at his sides once more.

"Nothing Tommy, just a nightmare." She uncurls her leg out from under her as she speaks; her muscles complain as she stretches but she ignores it, however it's rather hard to ignore the cramps in her back and neck due to sleeping in the chair, which had seemed far more inviting last night.

"A nightmare that caused you to wonder up three floors from your room and fall asleep in a secluded hall way?"As he speaks she can hear all the concern, along with the lingering doubt of _something _in his tone.

"I needed – I needed time to clear my head, so I took a walk." She extends her right leg; it's still asleep; she can't move her toes quite yet, so she doesn't stand.

"You took a walk," He stutters, his voice filled with an almost angry shock. "– Reese, you need bed rest, you're still healing." He clears his throat and his words dip into a softer tone.

She glares up at him, "What I need." She snaps; not bothering to stop the anger that plagues her words as she spits them out. "Is to be able to sleep and not have my mind re-playing the fucked up scenario of a psychopath cutting me open over and over!" She shoves herself up from her chair in a huff, feeling rage bubble in her veins as she does; she stands for a split second and promptly falls forward, her left leg giving out completely as pain shoots through it.

She'd have fallen flat on her face had she not collided directly with Jane's chest, where within seconds he works to steady her, his hands scrambling for her elbows and holding her as she leans against him for support; attempting to put some weight on her left leg, she growls softly and feels tears prickle against the corners of her eyes when she can't and has to lean against him completely.

"You're bleeding," Jane says softly.

"Some of the staples came out last night." She tells him, her voice low; she thinks she feels a bit embarrassed, and she _knows _she's irritated because she's embarrassed.

"And you thought it was a good idea to walk around?!" Tommy's shocked tone pushes out the anger that had filled it earlier; she focuses now on a button on Jane's vest a few inches in front of her nose as opposed to truly listening to her little brother's rage filled advice.

She inhales and lifts her head, pushing away from Jane; he in turn lowers her gently back into the chair she'd been sitting in; she casts him a thankful glance, he nods in response. She turns and looks up at her brother. "No, I didn't think it was a good idea but it was easier than sitting in my hospital bed and being terrified for my life." The anger she felt earlier is dead, or at least it's been left to simmer.

Tommy stares at her, horror slowly washes over his face, "What – what happened?" He glances at Jane and then back at her, "You, you weren't like this yesterday, you were happy yesterday, you were fine when I left you!"

"Her mind blocked out the memories of Red John, and now they're coming back in vivid nightmares." Jane's face remains impassive as he speaks and as he speaks his gaze shifts from Lisbon to the floor (she knows he blames himself for not getting there in time) as he finishes speaking he lifts his eyes from the floor and looks Tommy in the face.

"You should go get a nurse," Lisbon mumbles, looking at Jane's shoes, ignoring the fact Jane's looking at her.

"I'll – Alright." Tommy agrees, sounding sullen but she doesn't look up as he walks away.

Jane's shoe vanishes from sight as he turns and plops into the chair next to her with a heavy sigh; silence fills the gap between them.

"I can block the memories," He offers after a few minutes.

She considers it, like she considered calling him last night.

"No." She says, inhaling, and in a more gentle tone continues. "I can, get better." The words feel as though there being dragged out "– it'll get better." She continues softly, as if for her own support rather than Jane's. Her fingers curl around the arms of her chair as she speaks; her knuckles turning a chalky white.

He's still for a few seconds after she finishes speaking; almost like a statue, and then he breaks the spell by placing his hand on top of hers and uncurling her left hand from the arm of the chair, holding it in his after, rubbing her fingers as he holds it; the color slowly returning.

"It'll take a while, to get better, Lisbon. You know that." He retorts.

She exhales.

"I have a while." She confesses, "We both do." She adds softly.

"That, is true."

"Your taste in books surprises me, by the way." She smiles as she speaks and he frowns, lifting his gaze from her hand to look at her.

"What makes you say that?" He asks; the curiosity in his tone makes her smile turn into a smirk.

"Modern Man in search of a soul." She turns to face him, "You left it in my room."

He nods and mumbles something that sounds like, '_That's where I left it._' He then pushes himself to stand. "Common, let's get you something to eat." He turns to face her.

She curls her lip, "The food's gonna be terrible."

He smirks at her and swings his arms at his sides; stretching. "A punishment for making Cho and everyone else search the hospital for you, and for making your brother almost force Van Pelt into filing a missing persons report."

She snorts and rolls her eyes but pushes herself to stand; he holds her elbow till she's leaning against him, where he then loops his arm around her waist and they head slowly for the elevator down the hall which this one morphs into; the paneling's got 8 buttons on it, ranging from one to eight. He presses the first.

"What about Tommy?" She asks as the doors slide shut.

"Eh, he'll find us." Jane answers, she snorts.

"He's gonna be pissed when he goes back and we're gone."

"Oh well," He chirps, "And besides you like pissing him off."

"He's my little brother, how can I not?"

"I'll give you that." She can hear the smile on his face as he speaks; a comfortable silence builds between them as the conversation ends.

That is till she feels his hand leave her waist and slide across the back of her neck; she goes rigid against the touch; jumping a little as the elevator dings as it goes down the next floor.

"Relax, you're too tense." His hand grips her shoulder and she feels one of his thumbs dig into her shoulder blade, pressing against the complaining muscle; which she got from sleeping in the chair. She relaxes slowly, a small sigh escaping as he rubs her shoulders and back, pressing in all the right places as he goes, the elevator dings and he gets rid of another knot.

The elevator dings again and suddenly she's facing Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby with what she guesses is a nearly sexual look on her face, Jane digs his thumb into the knot wrapped around her spine despite the development before him and she elbows him in the gut in return.

"Honestly, I'm trying to relive some of your stress and that's the kind of thanks I get?" He whines and she sighs, taking a step forward or at least trying too; with all the intent of walking past her team, only fall over as she goes to take another step with her damaged leg.

It's Rigsby who grabs her by the elbow at the last second to stop her from face planting on the floor. Jane brushes past her, taking hold her other arm as he goes. "I've got it from here." Rigsby nods and lets go, Jane steadies her when he lets go.

"You should get that checked out." Cho says, glancing at the blood stain on her pants.

"I will," She answers; surprised by the obvious concern in his normally impassive tone.

"I'll make sure she does." Jane says from behind her, any visible concern on Cho's face vanishes as he glances at Jane without a word.

"Hey, could you three go find Tommy for me, please?" She asks before Jane can say anything in response to the look.

"We were heading up there anyway; I heard the sixth floor has the best coffee cart." Grace says, but she nods. "We'll tell him."

"Thanks," She returns a smile and they're gone, the elevator's doors sliding shut before them; whirring softly as it begins its ascent.

Lisbon sighs, lifting a hand and rubbing at her eyes Jane turns them, still supporting her weight and they head for the cafeteria.

Annie see's them first, lifting her hand and calling them over, Jane helps Lisbon into one of the chairs, "I'll see if I can find a wheel chair." He says, smiling at her and then glancing at Annie, "You, watch that, and make sure she doesn't do anything too dangerous." And then he's gone.

She sinks into the chair and rubs her eyes; she glances over at her niece's; who's looking at the packet of case files before her.

She sits upright in a rush; her back screams in complaint. "Where did you get those?" She asks.

"Rigsby gave them to me, don't worry. It's nothing to graphic and there cold files."

She sighs and leans back into the chair, she'll have to talk to Rigsby later about how it's not appropriate to give out case files to teenagers, even the relatively safe ones, with that thought in mind she reaches for some of the food that Annie has laid out across the table.

Her niece promptly yanks the food out of reach and shakes her head, "I don't think you should eat yet." But she hands her a water bottle, which Lisbon happily takes; unscrewing the cap and lifting it to her lips.

"Your boyfriend was worried about you, he called us at like 6:30 this morning and it took me about ten minutes to calm him down and explain what was going on."

She swallows, "Annabeth, I don't have a boyfriend." She takes another sip; her throat is screaming and the water is a sweet relief.

"Annie," Her niece growls, "And sure you do, the blond man."

She chokes on her drink; she struggles to clear her throat as she re-caps the water. "I'm not dating Jane." She stutters.

Annie frowns, placing her sandwich back in its wrapping. "But he loves you."

"Jane does not love me," As she speaks she can feel the shock make its way onto her face, and the blush that follows in its wake.

Annie shifts, leaning towards her. "Reese," She speaks slowly, as if she was talking to a child. "That man called us at six thirty in a panic because you were gone from your room, and I don't mean a 'oh, I missed placed my keys and now I'm gonna be late!' panic, I mean he was _terrified_." She leans away and picks up her sandwich, "And besides, the way he looks at you, he's totally in love with you."

She takes a bite and swallows, "And I mean head over heels in love, like the kinds in the romantic cop movies."

She snorts, "There's no such thing as romantic cop movies, and Jane doesn't look at me in any sort of way."

Her niece just smiles, "Sure there is, your life is a perfect example of one, too." She pauses, "And he looks at you like you're the fricken' sun." A small smile appears on her face, "He loves you, Reese, and you should let him."

She opens her mouth to give a response, but any possible words die in her throat; she can't bring herself to deny it; and she's saved by the devil himself as he walks around the corner; wheel chair being pushed in front of him.

He leans the chair against the table and pulls out a chair from the table to sit in it; with a gleeful smile on his face he pulls a bag from his blazer's pocket and places it in front of her. "I found your doctor, and he said it's alright for you to eat."

Inside the baggie are the sliced up remains of a golden delicious apple, she smiles at him in return and pulls the bag in her lap.

Annie gives her a look, and she ignores it, at least she ignores it till her niece turns to face Jane with a smirk on her face and says, "So, Jane."

"Hmm?" Is his response, he doesn't look at her; instead he's searching his pockets, Lisbon swears that's fear that is nesting next to her heart as her niece begins to speak; fear for the unknown, and maybe just a little bit of hope at what his answer will be for the obvious question.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Annie asks instead, holding up a wallet.

His hands still in his pockets and he looks at her; a grin breaking across his face. "You're getting better."

"Well, I've gotta be pretty good if I stole from the great Patrick Jane." She waves the wallet in her hand to empathize.

His grin grows, "I'll give you that," he reaches out and takes his wallet back and in the same movement places an iPod on the table. "And I'll give you that too." Annie's hands flutter to her pocks and she stares at him in disbelief, he smiles and leans back in his chair, opening his wallet to check its contents; but Lisbon bets that he'd let Annie keep any cash she'd taken if she did take some.

Annie never brings up the topic of Jane being in love with her.

Lisbon thinks that might be disappointment she feels nudging at her spine.

She sits on the bed with a blanket curled around her right leg and she holds the edge up just above her thigh on her left leg, she bites her lip as her doctor finished plucking the staples out. He runs his hands over the cut and Lisbon fights the strong urge to flinch, she focuses on Jane instead to keep the re-forming memories of the nightmare at bay as the doctor hums with thought.

"I might need to stitch this up." He says; his voice sounding distant.

Jane snorts from where he sits, she glares at him, and he makes a face and mimics zipping his lips shut.

'Good.' She mouths at him and when she looks back to the doctor he's frowning up at her. "Sorry," She says with an easy smile, "What were you saying?"

"I need to stitch this incision back up."

The way he says incision makes her want to hit him; because it's not an incision, it's something a serial killer did to her, not a medical professional.

Jane makes a face from where he sits behind the doctor; his lips twitching downwards and his eyes squinting; pupils turning to face each other.

She smiles at that, and he smiles in return as his face returns to normal.

She doesn't notice as the doctor slides the needle into the top part of her thigh and begins to sew the wound shut for a second time.

Jane keeps her distracted for the ten minutes it takes for the doctor to finish sewing it shut, tape it over and say she's good to go; wither it be by making faces out mouthing sarcastic comments at her; in the end he keeps her mind off the needle poking into her flesh and stitching the wound back together.

After they leave the O.R he dumps the wheel chair with a smile, "Guess we won't need that,"

She nods with a faint smile on her lips, "You're certainly right." She adjusts the crutches and the pair heads for the elevator.

The doors of the elevator slide shut and she gives a squawk of alarm at the face that appears when they click together, '_Dr. Sheppard, the face of Mercy Grace Hospital'_ is written in big white letters across the bottom of the image. "That's just, that's terrible." She whispers; her tone filled with distant horror and Jane makes a strangled noise, looking away from it, choosing to keep his gaze on her feet.

"You're not wearing shoes." He comments.

"It's a hospital; I don't think I need too." She pauses, "And I don't know what happened to them." She admits. He gives a chuckle.

"I'll make sure to bring you a pair." He says as the elevator dings, dropping down a level, heading for the main floor once more.

She smiles at him, "Thanks, do I need to tell you my size?"

He snorts, "Do you really need to ask _me _that?"

Her smile widens, "Just checking." She swats at his arm.

The elevator dings again and the face slides out from view, "I'll be right back." Jane says, stepping forward and out the doors, he continues walking and without looking back he says, raising his voice slightly so she can still hear him. "I just need to get some things from my car."

The doors begin to slide shut and he's vanishing from view, not once looking back.

"My niece thinks you're in love with me." She says, leaning forward; nearly slipping on the crutches.

He stops and looks back; eyes narrowing slightly, he's nearly turned around completely.

"Silly, isn't it?" She asks with a smile; a smile which he doesn't return; his frown deepens; he didn't hear her question, she realizes.

The doors slide shut before she hears his response and the elevator dings and begins its ascent upwards. It dings as it passes floors one through five, and then stops at six and the doors slide open again.

A woman with brown hair and highlights of brown stumbles in, even from far away Lisbon can see the freckles splattered across her face. "Floor nine, please." The woman mumbles as she rights herself, her bag sliding off her shoulder as the doors slide shut and the elevator continues its climb upwards.

The woman's wearing a blue blouse with detailed sunflowers and a pair of dark blue jeans, Lisbon realizes that her hair is in fact a dirty blond rather than just brown; and she's got eyes to match. She pulls her bag off her shoulder and shuffles around with it, pulling out a white button up and dark grey blazer.

A CD drops from her bag and lands on the floor with a soft clank; the woman doesn't notice.

She finishes pulling the clothes from her bag and slings it back over her shoulder, the elevator dings once more and the doors open again and she goes to step out.

Lisbon realizes that the flooring is different; it's a pale white from what she can see instead of the baby blue, gray and white checkered pattern on all the other floors, while she's looking at the floors she spots the CD on the floor of the elevator and bends to pick it up, body twisting awkwardly as she does.

The woman's just about to leave when Lisbon manages to pick up the CD, "Wait." She says, leaning forward on the crutches with the CD in an extended hand. "You forgot this." The woman turns, shuffling her bag on her shoulder and frowns at the CD. "It's not mine," With a faint smile she glances up from the CD and at Lisbon. "I think it's yours."

Lisbon frowns, "It's not –"She begins to say; frowning.

"Hey, hold onto it for me, would you though? I've gotta go." She turns and slides out from the doors, and Lisbon swears from the corner of her eyes she sees a blond teenager wave frantically in her direction, at _her_, and the doors begin to slide shut.

They close with a soft hissing noise and the elevator begins its decent, Lisbon looks at the CD and frowns, shifting it in her hands and she looks at the blank CD and without hesitation she clicks the plastic case open and everything goes black; matching the back of the CD's cover.

Suddenly she's being held; and she can hardly see a thing but she _can_ make out a faint golden lit silhouetted above her. "_I love you,_" She feels herself say; the man who's holding her begins to shake as he cries. "_Jane?_" She feels herself ask.

"_I love you, too._" She hears him say; she hears his stutter at the beginning of the words and how they sound like there being torn out from his chest, and dragged out through his throat.

She's dying all over again and that's just the beginning because suddenly she's upright, demanding knowledge from Angela and Charlotte Jane, she remembers everything, and then it's over; the CD's open case stares up at her; a completely regular plain CD resting within the case.

She swallows and the elevator dings once more, she shuts the case again and it snaps sharply, shattering the silence; and as she steps out onto the fifth floor she pauses and glances at the selection of buttons and map on the left side of the elevator's paneling.

There isn't a ninth floor on the map, not even a ninth button on the selection panel; despite that she'd pressed the ninth button a few minutes earlier.

She swallows again and steps from the elevator, letting the doors slide shut behind her; not looking back, or at least that's what she planned to do; but she's stopped when a hand curls around her wrist, she turns, shifting on the crutches.

Charlotte stands behind her with a sad smile on her face. "Thank you," She says with tears in her eyes and she pushes herself onto the tips of her toes; wrapping her arms around the other woman, pulling her into a tight hug, surprisingly, Lisbon doesn't wobble on her crutches during the embrace; she only does after when Charlotte pulls back and looks at her once more.

"You should go, don't keep my dad waiting." She says, shoving her gently out the rest of the way of elevator and this time the doors do slide shut; and she's left staring at them with Charlotte's smile burning its way into her mind.

AN: For clarification Lisbon had forgotten what happened after she died, and what she'd told Jane. Now she's just remembered it. All the reviews mean a lot to me and thank you all for taking the time to do it, school starts back up soon so I'm hoping to wrap this story up in the next few days.


	5. Chapter 5

AN's: I couldn't decide where to put this but I thought I might as well slide it into the beginning, a reference to this conversation;

**Melba Walker Shannon**: [_to Wilson_] These people will be leaving now.  
**Patrick Jane**: I like the way you say that. Melba-like-the-toast. So tough and command. Let me tell you something. We are state law enforcement. And we leave when we want to leave.  
**Teresa Lisbon**: Thanks for your time.  
**Patrick Jane**: She wants to leave. See ya.

At the * mark, I just want to make sure it makes sense when you read it.

Enjoy, and I'm sorry for the delay, I needed to figure out how this story was gonna end and school got in the way.

"_In other news, what could be called an assassination attempt happened earlier this morning around seven at Mercy Grace Hospital_." The news woman on TV begins after finishing the weather forecast; these are the words that nearly cause Madeleine Hightower to drop the plate she's loading into the dishwasher.

She steps away from the dishwasher and heads imidetly into the living room; leaving it open as she goes; the dishes exposed and damp to the morning's air, glancing at the clock as she goes, its seven thirty now.

She sits on the sofa and reaches for the remote in the same motion; turning the volume up. "_The victim in question is_ _Teresa Lisbon; a senior CBI agent who had been staying at the hospital to recover from the injuries she gained in her encounter with Red John._" The woman on the TV pauses, glancing down at her papers and then back at the camera, an almost proud look on her face as she begins speaking.

"_For those of you who haven't had a chance to catch up, Teresa Lisbon's team at the CBI is responsible for bringing down Red John. Wayne Rigsby was the one who fired the wounding shots upon arriving at the scene of the supposed hide out for the killer, but it was in fact Patrick Jane, a widow and victim for nearly a decade, who killed him. Teresa Lisbon was found miraculously alive on scene, despite having lost enough blood that would have killed your average person and so far her recovery had been doing well till now. And for more info on the shooting this morning I turn to Brenda Shettrick, the head of the CBI media Relations unit._"

"_Thank you, Maddie._"Brenda Shettrick says with a tight smile, giving a nod to the camera."_I can't give much more insight at the moment, due to how recent this is, but I can however show you what the hospital's surveillance camera's managed to catch." _

The image of Brenda is gone and replaced by the black and white video in question.

Teresa Lisbon sits at a bench, crutches on her left side. She's talking to a rather ragged and skinny man who's nodding along, he speaks, and an irritated look washes across her face. He speaks again and her eyes go slightly wide and a well concealed look of fear follows.

She pushes herself to stand and picks the crutches up with this development, leaning on them for support. The reporter asks another question and Lisbon shakes her head; glancing to her right and then moving to leave.

That's when the flare of a gunshot blurs the footage for a moment, and the reporter's companion, who'd been standing a foot back; drops his camera and is gone in a dash. Along with the people in the surrounding area; Lisbon wavers where she stands; and then falls to her knees, and then onto her side where she rolls onto her back; blood splattering on the floor beneath her; her breath comes in visible heaving gasps.

In the same moment a blur enters the footage in the lower right corner; a man leaps over the bench as the shooter lifts the same gun towards his jaw. But a second flare doesn't come because the man who leapt over the bench punches him in the jaw; the shooter imidetly falls to the floor unconscious and the victor rushes to Lisbon's side.

"_Hold on folks,_" Brenda's voice cuts in to the background; something that sounds like a sick mixture of excitement and joy in her tone. "_We just managed to recover the footage of the camera that can be seen on the left side of the footage you are watching now, but I warn you, what you are about to see may be graphic._"

The black and white image clicks then blurs, and is replaced by a colored close up of Lisbon's face; who's wearing an irritated and closed off expression. "Fine," She snaps, shifting and leaning back into the bench. "Ask away." She growls, her eyes narrowing as she looks from the reporter back to the camera.

"Thank you," Comes the voice of the man directly in front of the camera, his face isn't visible, but his tone is calmed and almost pleased. "How are you feeling at the moment?"

She snorts, lifting a hand and rubbing her face. "I – I'm tired." She growls, glaring at the man full tilt and then again at the camera.

"Alright, my apologies Miss Lisbon, we'll try to make this quick." The reporter says; compassion flooding his tone along with an underlying fierce edge that sounds close to a demand.

She sighs, "I'm sorry for snapping, that was unprofessional." she exhales and nods, more to herself rather than anyone else; "Go ahead and continue." The visible creases in her forehead fade away as she leans back into the bench; a more pleasant expression takes its place as she regards the reporter and camera man with new found patience.

"What does it feel like to be one of the few surviving victims of the serial killer Red John?"

The patience melts away as quickly as it came into place; her eyes widen slightly, and she opens her mouth to speak but shuts it, swallowing visibly, her lips press into a tight line and the color fades from her face as she swallows again. She promptly pushes herself to stand; wobbling slightly before grabbing for the crutches, swiftly tucking one under each arm and leaning against them.

The reporter continues waiting for a response and she glances to her right; the camera swivels to follow her line of sight, blurring as it still's once more and then re-focusing on the face of a smiling Patrick Jane as it zooms in, who's got a box tucked under his arm and his making exaggerated hand gestures with the other while he talks with a man in a brown sweater.

The camera then turns back to Lisbon who stares at it like a frightened child, eyes still wide; this look melts away in a heartbeat though and her green eyes go glossy, but a look of fierce acceptance freezes onto her face and in another heartbeat a white light blurs the camera's footage for a moment and the gun shot is heard.

The video visibly shakes; lines of color splintering across it, only to melt into static and fade as side view of a hospital floor blooms into focus; within second's it's filled with the sight of a woman's knees a few feet back. Then said woman falls to her side, mouth agape as blood trickles from the edges, and then she promptly tilts to the side, falling onto her back; blood smearing on the sharp white floor with every movement she makes.

Static crackles and silence begins to pool in after the gun shut, only to be shattered by the sound of a man's terrified short lived shout; which surprisingly, can be heard above the other screams of terror as people scatter. The sound of footsteps increase and a blur leaps over the bench and feet smack once more against the now stained hospital floor and the sound of bone meeting bone follows.

Then another thud and Jane turns to Lisbon and rushes to her side; shrugging off his jacket and pressing it onto her stomach, silence pools in once more as he goes through the motion; his eyes wide and his expression frantic; his lips are moving, the camera makes a pitiful clicking noise and as the image of Patrick Jane becomes more aggressive it gives a final crinkle and sound floods the video, catching him mid sentence.

"– _You don't get to decide when you die!_"

"_Neither do you._"Is Lisbon's response, her voice cracking slightly as she speaks, she clears her throat and the camera whines; the video clicking once more before it refocuses. Lisbon's shoulders shake with silent laughter as she speaks again, the camera clicks. "_And you don't have anything to worry about; you can't get rid of me that easily, Jane. You see, it's because CBI agent's only leave when they want too._"*

He cracks a smile at that, his eyes visibly glazing over at the memory of his statement. He swallows and a wet chuckle fills the silence before he speaks,"_I'm gonna hold you to that._"He growls and then he clears his throat; thinking to himself he shouldn't sound so devastated, so ragged; she's going to live.

"_I know you will, Jane. That's why I said it_." She inhales and sighs, coughing slightly she clears her throat before speaking; irritation bleeding into her tone. "_We really do have bad timing don't we?_"

He gives her a grin and nods, "_**We**__ certainly do, but that's why we're such good partners._"

She gives a light chuckle, her lips moving as she says the word'_Partner_' to herself; says it like a prayer_. _However chuckle morphs into a gag half way through; blood trickles from the edges of her lips and her eyes go wide as she slowly lifts a hand, but he beats her too it; wiping the blood away from her lips.

Her gaze follows his hand as it moves to cup her cheek, she tilts her head back and rests it against the floor, and she lifts a hand once more; grabbing his wrist. He moves again and pulls her into his lap so she's sitting up slightly, leaning against his thigh's and knee's; against the make-shift chair he's made by kneeling. She gives a sniffle before speaking, her eyes roaming over his face, his thumb stroking her cheek. "_Last time I couldn't see you._" She moves her hand from his wrist and runs her fingers through his hair, relishing in the feeling.

He let's her without a word.

She swallows and they both know what she's referring too when she speaks again. "_Maybe it's best that I didn't_." She gives a small chuckle, "_I never found men crying an attractive thing._"

He snorts, "_Look who's talking Lisbon. You get all snotty when you cry_."

Her eyes widen slightly, "_How do you –_"Her hand leaves his hair and rushes to her cheek, her finger tips skimming over his hand, and she feels her own tears against the tips of her fingers. The one's he'd been wiping away before she could feel them rolling down her cheek and realize what was happening, what they were re-living. "_Oh._" She mumbles.

"_Oh,_"He mocks,_ "Wipe that look of your face Teresa, you're gonna be fine._" He growls and rolls his eyes; his hand's snaked away from her face and joined its mate in the process of pressing against the wound.

She gives a sigh with fake agitation, "Jesus Jane." She opens her mouth to speak, a smirk playing on her lips, but she gags once more, blood trickling from her mouth and her hands flutter up to wipe it away; she pales as she withdraws her hand and stares at it in obvious horror, she then moves her gaze from her hand to him; eyes growing wide.

"_You're gonna be fine._" He snarls, looking down at their hands as he speaks and then meeting her gaze.

She looks at him, her gaze running across his face; sorrow begins to bleed into her own expression."_You don't get to decide that._"She says softly, the same fierce acceptance from before returns with vengeance.

He presses down harder, glancing at the surrounding area for nurses or anyone to help and then back down at her, he leans in slightly."_Yeah, but I do get to decide that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I certainly didn't tell you that I love you with the expectation that I'll be get anything less than that, Lisbon._"

She stares up at him, blinking owlishly at his confession."_Oh._" She mumbles, though it comes out more as a breath than a word and he nods in response, swallowing.

"_Yeah, oh." _He mocks coldly,"_So you listen to me, Teresa Lisbon, don't even think, for a second, that you are not making it out of this alive because we have been through too much for you to die over a god damn bullet wound._"

She chuckles again and this time the sound manages to make it out alive, her eyes going wide at his use of profanity. "_Alright then. You make a very compelling argument._"

He nods, "_I certainly do, and that's how I close so many cases. Now just hold on, for me alright?_"

She nods in return and as she does she gasps loudly, going rigid in his lap as the obvious rate of blood flowing from her abdomen increases; dripping out from the cracks between his fingers. She makes a gagging noise while Jane frantically shifts, trying to hold her."_Lisbon? Lisbon!_" He yelps and her hands slide down from where they had been resting against his, were they plop and remain still in the smears of blood on the floor; the pads of her fingertips stained a harsh red; a sharp contrast to the pale white floor.

'_Oh screw it,' _he growls softly to himself, removing his hands for a moment from the wound and shoving up the top of the hospital gown. "_You tore your sutures._" Shock fills his tone as he speaks, he looks back up at her and then at the wound, one hand sliding under her and cupping against the back of the bullet wound. "_You fucking nodded, and you tore your sutures_!" He continues, sounding appalled and terrified.

She gives a soft whimper as he plasters his hand across her stomach and presses down; covering the space of the bullet wound and the reopened gash._ "Sorry_." She grumbles, frowning now, "_Jesus Jane, that's one hell of a grip._"

"_Yeah well, I tend to hold onto the things I want and not let go._"

"_Greedy Bastard."_ She chirps, and then snorts, _"I know, but Jesus – could you lighten up just a bit, please_?" Her fingers curl on the floor; leaving trails as they go; she curls them into fists. She exhales and it comes out as a faint hissing noise; fresh blood painting her lips.

He does as she requests, his hands visibly soften as he moves and she sighs in relief, eye lids fluttering shut. "_Thank you_." The word comes out on the breath of an exhale.

He nods and with the ghost of a smile, "_Of course, anything for you Lisbon _-" he says and pauses, waiting for a reply; a snarky remark.

But nothing comes from her lips and he shifts, removing his hand from on top of the wound, stretching he extends a hand, pressing two fingers to her neck.

The look of panic rushes in like a title wave across his face and he leans forward, his hand underneath her leaves her in option of curling around her shoulders and pulling her further into his lap, his other hand remains pressed to the front of her stomach; blood gushes in a squirt out from underneath his palm.

"_Lisbon_?" He asks, shaking her slightly.

No response from lips still warm.

"_Lisbon_?" He repeats, she remains silent. "_Teresa_!" He yelps, visibly swallowing once more, shaking his head slightly in the movement, a ghosting 'No' is caught by the camera. "_Teresa, open your eyes_." He snarls, his tone flooding with demand.

From within Hightower's living room the phone rings, she jumps, and not removing her eyes from the screen she reaches to her left and claims it from the coffee table. "Hello?" She answers, not looking from tragedy playing out on the screen.

"Are you watching this?"

It's Virgil Minelli.

"Yes." She answers; once she can get past the lump in her throat.

"_Teresa!_" Jane's snarl echo's through the phone and is heard from the screen before her, in answer Teresa's eyes flutter open; just in slits and she stares at him, looking almost irritated. _"Keep your eyes open._" He growls, looking down at where his hand is pressed against the wound, his other hand is tight on her shoulder; knuckles white.

Her hands lift from the floor and rest on top of his, and she shifts; despite his protests so she's sitting more upright.

"_You know, you're not my boss._"

He snorts."_Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?"_

She blinks again and inhales, "_You know –"She _pauses, eyes narrowing as she looks at him."_You know, I love you, right?_"

"_Yeah, I know, we've been over this." _Jane growls, rolling his eyes."_Now keep your eyes open_."

Her gaze shifts to the ceiling, and she blinks again."_Seems' like I'm dying every time I tell you." _She chirps, _"We really do have bad timing, don't we?" _

"_Yes we do Lisbon, we've been over this. But you're not dying; it's just a bullet wound and your life is not some sort of terrible romantic tragedy." _He glances around again; no sign of help.

They're in a god damn hospital for crying out loud, he thinks; not bothering to hide the rage and frustration which he knows is written all over his face.

Bunch of cowards who play God but won't come out of the shadows to help when there's a problem right in front of them.

She clicks her tongue and he looks back down at her. She lifts one hand and presses it to his face; her eyes are glassy as she looks at him; a small smile trailing up her lips; the anger melts away in a heartbeat and is replaced by a look of horror and realization.

_Damn it, it's been too long and she's lost to much blood._

A ruffling sound is heard further off screen; the shooter stirs.

"_I –"_Her voice wavers and she swallows. "_I love you, alright? And don't beat yourself up about this, okay? Because I know it would be just like Patrick Jane to wallow in self pity and self hate because the woman he loves has died twice in his arms_." She speaks with false irritation to cover up the fear lurking just below the surface.

His eyes go wide, "_I – I won't have anything to beat myself up about, Lisbon, what are you talking about?_"

She clicks her tongue, "_There you go, denying the obvious, just like you always do." _She gives a soft chuckle, shifting in his arms, she smiles up at him. _"I love you_." She repeats and the smile grows; an open toothed smile, even though they're stained with blood, her eyes flutter shut once more but she continues to speak. "_You know, this would be another good time to say it Jane, one for the road._"

"_I love you, but you already know that _–"He begins to answer answers; swallowing, a few tears leak from the edges of his eyes and he waits for his answer.

"_Lisbon?" _He croaks.

_No answer._

"_Lisbon?" _Once more, like a child looking for their mother.

_No answer._

"_Teresa_?" He tries, she doesn't answer and he begins to cry, the rate of tears increasing, his shoulders shake and minutes begin to slowly tick by; silence fills the space around him.

**LOCKDOWN OVER**

A voice states over the intercom and he lifts his head, squinting at the ceiling in confusion and to the far left of the lobby a humming noise begins. He looks back at her and shakes her. "_Lisbon!" _He snaps, his hand leaving her stomach and feeling for a pulse once more at her neck.

He finds nothing and sets her back down on the floor, ripping off his blazer, buttons bouncing in all directions, he balls it up and presses it against her stomach, yanking the hospital gown over it he shifts and curls his hands together, and presses them on her chest.

The camera clicks and the sound dies, he mouths something to himself but the camera doesn't pick it up. A hand leaves its companion on her chest and he tilts her head back slightly and then returns to placing his hands on her chest; and begins what is obviously CPR; his shoulder's shaking as he moves.

"Oh god, Jane." Hightower says softly into the phone; her eyes going wide and tears of her own trickling across her cheeks.

Virgil remains silent on the other end of the phone.

He bends his head and kisses her, breathing air in and then continues with the compressions when he lifts his head.

The camera clicks pathetically and a soft humming noise fills the silence, followed by the beeping of the elevator and footsteps are heard. "_Jane._" A voice state's from off screen; it's Cho. A clicking sound follows which is obviously a gun being returned to its holster, his shadow splashes across the sharp white floor.

"_She was shot_." Jane answers his unspoken question, "And _tore her sutures and bled out –_"He pauses, risking a few seconds to look up at Cho and then back down to Lisbon, his hands continuing in chest compressions. "_What the hell happened, Cho? Where is everyone?"_

"_Lockdown procedure is what happens when there's a shooter in the hospital, all area's are closed off from each other, all floors are locked."_ He pauses. "_I'm assuming everyone in this area fled after they heard the shooter and got closed off." _As he speaks another clicking noise follows; it's handcuffs.

"_Could you get a nurse, while you're at it?_" Jane asks as he bends his head and breathes air into Lisbon; who's a shade of white that could rival the hospital's floors.

"_Already on it, called some on my way down._" He answers; his voice sounding closer with every passing second. The camera is lifted from the floor, the screen blurs and static passes over in waves, only to refocuses on the face of Cho, who glare's down at it with obvious hate and disgust; the sound of footsteps follow as he walks and then the camera is dumped in what would only be trash can; given the how video has gone dark and the sound of smacking plastic could be heard in the seconds before darkness.

"_There you have it folks," _Brenda concludes._ "Teresa Lisbon's condition at the time remains unknown, but we'll be sure to let you know once we get a update, now here's Maddie with the weather for this week."_

Madeline turns the TV off as the weather forecast begins once more; her free hand falls to her lap.

"He'll break if she dies." She jumps at the sudden voice in her ear. "It'll throw him right over the edge."

She swallows and nods, then realizes that Virgil cannot see her so she speaks, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "Yes, it will."

Silence fills the following seconds and then he speaks again, "I'm going down there."

"Give me an update when you get there." She responds, "Tell Jane to call me if –"She trails off; the words of the very real possibility dying in her throat.

"I will." And then the line goes dead, and as she lays the phone on the coffee table she turns around, grabbing her coat from the back of the sofa.

**EARLIER THAT MORNING**

AN's:

Okay. I'd like to declare any confusion, this story isn't over and won't be for a few more chapters but here's a recap;

Hightower was watching the news; a report of a shooting at the hospital at which Lisbon is staying at happened and what you just read was what footage they recovered. I'll try to explain more in the next chapter which will start with what happened earlier in the day of the shooting and end with the aftermath of that day.

I think this may have two or three more chapters.

This story, incase you haven't noticed is all about circling the drain.

And for any of you who haven't looked up the title [Posthumously] here's what it means;

Occurring or continuing after one's death.

I'd like to personally thank LinNicole for the review she/he left, it meant A LOT to me to receive one like that, so thank you and I'm sorry but updates will be slow because school has started again.


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